


Freedom

by Jayenn



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Inspired by East of the Sun West of the Moon, is mine of vague stream-of-consciousness writing, mbb2k17, miraculousbang2k17, the only love truer than that of a confused adrien for his lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayenn/pseuds/Jayenn
Summary: A one-shot focusing on Adrien's thoughts and feelings as he runs against the various restrictions in his life. Based off of The Polar Bear's Bride (which is based on the fairytale East of the Sun, West of the Moon) and you should probably read that first.





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Polar Bear's Bride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850494) by [Thecrazydragonlady15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecrazydragonlady15/pseuds/Thecrazydragonlady15). 



> Eyyy my first Big Bang in which I proved even worse at procrastinating than I'd thought! But here it is, anyway. *jazz hands*

Rules, laws, controlling authorities, societal niceties, physical barriers -- one way or another, Adrien has known the restrictions on his life since before he could even walk around them.

His first toys are finely made, as befits one of his station. He is not allowed the crude toys of any others, and it is only partly because his parents worry he may harm himself on the rough edges of normality. His first steps are closely watched in the controlled environment of his parent's rooms.

(to be fair, of course, every child is restricted in such a way. the world is not a very good place to learn to walk.)

His first act of rebellion, subconscious and instinctual, is ignoring his daily lessons to listen to the songs of the children. He isn't allowed to sing them himself -- why would a prince need to sing about the plague, his father sniffs -- but he learns the words anyway.

He sits on the sidelines while the other children of the palace run around him, laughing and playing. He wants to join them, more than anything.

But he can't.

As Adrien gets older, trained to be silent instead of crying when he is sad and frustrated and wants nothing more than to be held by his mother, he is frequently placed with other children in a stuffy room where they are expected to simply sit for hours, as though that is considered playing. He wants to chase and be chased the way he saw the children in the streets doing, but he dares not even ask.

Finally, his mother speaks on his behalf and his walls stretch to include the courtyard near the forest. He is closely watched and he cannot leave, but within these barriers he is content for a little while. He even plays with the other children -- who are also overjoyed to leave those stuffy rooms -- although it seems whenever their games are getting truly interesting, they are called away and he is left alone.

And besides that, whenever they  _do_ play, he feels as though the other children are hesitant around him. As though they follow rules made specifically about him. Whenever he comments on a toy they give it to him. When he races the other children he is always faster. When he manages to convince the other boys to let him wrestle, he always wins. It takes him a little while to discover that they are  _letting_ him win. They always defer to everything he wants. They act...

They act like the people surrounding his father and mother. Always ready to flatter but never sincere.

(Like they don't let themselves have an opinion.)

One day, after off-handedly mentioning the new ball he got for his birthday, the children immediately "agree" to play catch. He wants to roll his eyes but stops himself. It would be rude, and he doesn't think they mean anything by it anyway.

_(always, always something stops him from being himself)_

Adrien thinks, sometimes, that if the children had better aim it would be impossible for him to fail to catch the ball. Clearly, they try their absolute best to throw it directly to him every time, even though he sees some of them throwing it purposefully wide and laughing when the others have to run to catch it. Not so with him -- or at least they _attempt_ not to tease him in such a manner. But they are children, of course, and not always perfect, and the frustration of not throwing the ball as they'd wanted wears off a little bit of their composure. They throw the ball a little harder than normal, and their laughs are more real when he catches it. He believes they're having fun, and he believes it even when the ball goes sailing right past his head and he turns and runs after it, laughing.

He can hear the children calling out apologies, and then stammering excuses when their parents ask about said apologies. They will probably be gone when he gets back. His head droops even as he continues running after the ball. It has rolled under a bush near the wall, a little out of sight.

He stops short at the sight of a girl holding the ball. She has hair like his but she seems very out of place, though he could not say why. He can see the same loneliness he feels reflected in her eyes, along with the defiant spark of someone who struggles against her own restrictions.

Of  _course_ Adrien befriends her.

 

* * *

 

Adrien is heartbroken when his new friend betrays him. She binds him, steals him, takes him far away from the only home he’s ever known. For a few moments during the awful trip, he thought it was exciting, a new adventure he could never have dreamed of having. But it quickly sets in that the girl — the _troll_ — has no intention of letting him return home. She speaks of how he is hers, how he will always be hers, how he will never leave her.

  
He’d give anything for the solid walls of the palace that he could never go past.

  
For one glittering moment, he hopes the troll’s father will set him free, but it is not to be.

  
His life is one prison after another, each worse than the one before.

  
His skin feels _wrong._ It’s heavy, and _hot_ , and he hates it. He can’t speak, he can hardly run because he _has four legs_.

  
And sure, the troll king places him out of the reach of the troll princess, but that is little comfort. He is doomed to wander, imprisoned in his own body.

  
Then again…

  
At least he _is_ free (?) to wander.

  
He takes to roaming the countryside, quickly learning to stay near the rivers and lakes, because he is prone to overheating whenever he strays from the ice palace. It would likely be quite enjoyable to wander wherever he wants, able to explore the great outdoors…

  
If he could wander wherever he wants. He is stuck in the skin of a strange animal which any hunter would give their best hound to acquire. He has to stay away from people—

  
(he _always_ has to stay away from people!)

  
—and as he is in the form of something that lives in the frozen wasteland of the north, he must stay within reach of the ice palace.

  
And, too, he begins to stay closer to the palace because…

  
He can’t remember anything else.

  
He can’t remember where his home is — he must have had one, surely — or where his parents are — he must have had them, of course — and he has no idea which way to go to even start to find them.

  
And in time, in ever circling, always present time, he begins to forget that he had wanted to.

  
Roaming is the only thing that feels right, and even it is wrong, but he is at a loss as to what else his limited memories will allow him to enjoy.

  
It is during this roaming that he stumbles across the girl with eyes the color of the sky.

* * *

 

 

Beneath the fuzziness in his mind keeping him slow—

  
(keeping him _bound_ )

  
—he is proud to have saved her. That, he did alone. He did without anyone telling him to do so. Without direction.

  
He keeps the feeling of that moment strong, even if sometimes he forgets exactly why he had been so calm and peaceful that day. He only knows he was, that somewhere there were eyes the color of the sky that had made him feel safe and secured, strong enough to break through…

  
It’s fuzzy again.

* * *

 

His life has become a long drawn out collection of _can’t_ , and he knows that there are enchantments he can’t break. Knows that there are rules.

  
(of course there are rules)

  
(when has he ever been free of rules)

  
He follows them because he must, until the day he meets her again. Her eyes hold a spark he has never—

  
Never felt—

  
_No, that’s not right._

  
He had felt that way once, a few times, when he strayed beyond some boundary. The memory is fuzzy, but he thinks…

  
He hopes…

  
Oh, he _hopes._

  
He won’t just drag the girl with him, of course, but he knows it is important — vital — that she comes with him. He offers her a choice; that’s important, he knows it.

  
She accepts.

  
He bundles her off to his home, where he feels less like the heat is smothering him and the clear frost sharpens his mind. A little. His mind is always fuzzy these days. The girl…

  
The girl is brave.

  
Strong.

  
She explores everything with a vibrant curiosity, and he feels encouraged to do the same when he watches her. He feels that though he can’t break the enchantment, she can.

  
How could he do anything other than love her?

* * *

 

Another string in the enchantment woven around him: he can throw off the polar bear skin at night. It feels strange to wander on two feet, but. Well. He never wanders far.

  
Funny thing: the strength of the polar bear had itself been a barrier. He could hardly be expected to gently caress his lady’s cheek with a claw made for ripping. He could not wrap his arms around her when his arms were actually feet.

  
But like this? He can… he can be with her, close enough to touch, to hold her.

  
And this, too, has its own rules and restrictions. Only at night, and he must never speak, and she must never—

  
Never—

  
Can’t—

  
Green eyes flash in the night.

  
He has human hands, and he will hold his lady for as long as he can, and nothing can stop him.


End file.
